I wrote the first poem during my poetry class in the fall of 2018, when my stepdad was showing mild signs of (read: successfully hiding) having dementia . The second one is more recent. This is me coming to terms with shit through poetry.

I have my fireplace going and it’s in the 60s outside. Fall is finally here. We’ve already been to the pumpkin patch and decorated the whole house for Halloween. The front porch is covered with pumpkins. Unfortunately I bought my mums too early in September and they died of the climate-change heat wave we had most of the month. Continue reading “Insidious OCD”→

On the last day of vacation,sunburned and windswept,I rushed down to the beachwith an empty bottleto capture a piece of sea.

I crammed sand and tiny shells
through the opening,
filled the empty space with seawater,
hoping as we drove away
when I missed this place
I could open it,
return to that
delirious infinity,
the rush of light
sound and movement
more wonderfulthan anything I’d ever seen.

Of course it was a lost cause:
Grand things diminish
in confined spaces,
both children and the sea.

Even though we are still in limbo regarding my stepdad, it’s been a wonderful summer. It’s the first since I had kids that I got to be home with them, and we’ve been too busy enjoying ourselves for me to write much. Even though we’re moderately broke, we’ve found plenty of fun things to do…trips to the science museum, skipping around between all the excellent library branches, visiting parks when it’s not too hot, swimming, art exhibits, museums, caverns, visits to and from family, playdates…

My daughter starts school next week and both my son and I will be seriously bummed without her around every day. I let her have an end-of-summer sleepover with three friends last weekend; her first one ever. I nearly lost my sanity, but she and her friends had a good time. 😉

I finally went to the doctor and dentist on my new insurance, and I’m working on fixing all the minor health problems I’ve been having: migraines, low iron, vertigo…the doctor tried to hook me up with a therapist, but at this point finding a babysitter to cover appointments sounds more stressful than therapy sounds helpful. A therapist isn’t going to be able to do anything about the uncertainty of the stepdad situation anyway. If he goes to trial I’m going to go to support Mom.

For now, I have a first birthday party to attend for my great-niece soon, and a visit to Mom’s to plan in September. I can’t wait until the weather cools down so I can take Rory on hikes, too. There’s still a lot to explore in our new city.